I should start by splitting the female world in two separated earth’s crusts, as an earthquake can cause not only big geological changes, but also thicker dictionaries. Women and girls are two different words that both exist to be something different from one and the other. There is a slightly difference between a woman and a girl.  A woman knows what she wants, while a girl knows what a man wants. As I know what I want I should be called a woman. However, to be called a woman one needs to know first what I want and this implies that we are already complicating things, which is the first thing a woman wants.

But let me started with A. S., which is a man or a boy. There is no difference between a boy and a man, in fact, they both know what they want. But if one really needs to create more confusion let the boy knows what he wants, when nobody wants to know what he wants. In the case of A.S. I wish I could have known what he wanted because this was something I wanted.I know what I wanted from A.S. because I gave him my number in a piece of paper. I could have given to him a smile or a breath of springtime, but poetry needs good readers while a phone number a pocket and two eyes. As I didn’t know his education and personal curiosities I decided to go for the piece of paper. If at this stage I have already disappointed some women who clearly wanted me to go for the breath of springtime, all I can say is that a muse might spark more interest than a writer but now it is too late to make history.

I know what I wanted because I invited A. S. out five times in five weeks in a row. He never did it once. I guess because I asked him first or because his favorite number was six. As I have already mentioned before I did not know what he wanted, let alone his favorite number.As I am a comedian one of my invitations led us to a comedy night where friends of mine performed.  I should have been in the bill with other comedians, but what I wanted was to spend some time with him. I am a comedian who doesn’t perform, but who knows what she wants, which was no comedy for a month. Nothing seemed to impress E.S. even after my little gift to him: a cream for his face as he seems into those things. One thing led to other things, like anxiety and no self-esteem. He didn’t want exclusivity and I wanted something called exclusivity.  I met him for the last time and told him what I wanted, something clearly he didn’t want. I left as a woman who knew what I wanted and only girls know what he wanted.

 

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